Kumu's Got a Gun
by DinerGuy
Summary: 2018 reboot. The thing was, Magnum hadn't even expected trouble when he'd volunteered to help Kumu with some boxes at the cultural center. He hadn't expected to find three gunmen intent on robbing the place. And he definitely hadn't expected to get shot.


_A/N: Standard disclaimers apply. __(Including the one where I'm not a licensed medical professional of any sort.)_

_Y'all wouldn't believe how hard I found titling this one to be. xD Thanks to __Frankie McStein __and Marlab for helping me kick around titles (and to the latter for the actual name for the fic). It would still be sitting in my Drive without their help._

* * *

"Whoa, hold on there, guys!" Magnum jumped between the gunmen and Kumu, hands raised placatingly. "Let's not do anything crazy, okay?"

The one who seemed to be the leader of the trio glared at him. "Out of the way," he growled.

Magnum started to shake his head and argue once again that the artifact the other men were after wasn't even in the building, but he didn't get far. He barely had the chance to open his mouth before a gunshot rang out.

He stumbled back a few steps, shock muting the pain he knew he should be feeling.

Silence hung in the air for a long moment as he looked around. It seemed as if the world had suddenly gone into slow motion.

The man on the far right looked shocked, fear flickering across his face as his finger trembled on the trigger of his gun. The leader looked angry—well, about as angry as he had before, but now it seemed to be redirected at his crony—and the other guy just looked uncertain.

Magnum blinked, his brain spinning to compute what he knew he should be feeling. He'd felt the pressure of the bullet ripping through his left side, and he _knew _he should be feeling… something. But nothing was there. He turned to glance back at Kumu and just had the chance to recognize the panic and worry on her face before everything sped up all at once.

The wave of pain slammed into him, leaving him gasping for breath as he clenched his side. Almost out of morbid curiosity, he lifted his hand and glanced down to see blood coating it.

He felt his legs trembling, felt the temptation to just sink to the ground and give up, but he knew he couldn't. He had to keep his footing, had to stay in the fight. Otherwise, he would be leaving Kumu alone against these three goons, and he was _not _about to let that happen.

But then it didn't matter because his body betrayed him, and he slumped to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. The impact rattled his injury, causing what felt like fire to flare up into his head, taking over everything else and drowning out his surroundings. The darkness that had been threatening the edges of his vision rolled over him now and obscured the interior of the cultural center.

As if from a distance, he thought he heard Kumu call his name, thought one of the men yelled something, but he couldn't focus long enough to make out what was going on.

The gentle hand on his face came as a surprise, and he wanted to open his eyes to see what was happening, but he just couldn't make himself…

Then he heard Kumu's voice again, clearer this time, and realized she was talking to him.

"Thomas? Come on, now. Open your eyes for me."

He groaned. The effort seemed like too much to even attempt, but something in her tone made him want to try. She sounded worried—more than worried… scared?—and the fear in her words gave him the motivation he needed to force his gaze to meet hers.

"Hey, there you are," she said quietly, her voice encouraging.

"Ku—" His attempt at speaking was cut off by a harsh cough that erupted from somewhere in his chest, turning into something of a yell as the jerking movements exacerbated the agony coursing through him.

Kumu put a hand on his shoulder as her concerned eyes searched his. "Shh, don't try to talk," she told him quickly. Her gaze darted down to his side, then up at what Magnum assumed were the gunmen still standing where they had been. "Well, are you just going to stand there?" she demanded angrily, and Magnum would have laughed if it wouldn't have hurt so much. "He's going to bleed out if you don't do something!"

"He got in the way," came the gruff, unapologetic voice that Magnum recognized as the leader of the trio. There was a pause, then the man continued. "Maybe we'll let you call for help if you tell us where the new shipment is."

Even with the way his vision was going increasingly, alarmingly blurry, Magnum still made out Kumu glaring at the men.

"But I told you! The flight from Kauai was delayed! It won't be here until the morning. So, even if I _wanted _to give it to you, I can't."

Magnum was trying to force the pain into a back corner of his mind, where it would stay hidden away while he figured out how to handle the dangerous situation, but it was no use. He couldn't focus past the mind-numbing, agonizing feeling of whatever damage the bullet had done.

His hands scrabbled weakly at the ground as he tried to summon the energy to put pressure on his wound. He knew he needed to do something—and fast. He was bleeding heavily; he could feel the cold, sickening feeling of losing blood much too quickly. It brought him back to nightmarish memories of the POW camp, and he squeezed his eyes shut as much against the images flooding his mind as against the pain itself. He finally managed to get one hand on his side and pressed down as hard as he could, but the fresh wave of pain from the small amount of pressure was enough to send him reeling toward senselessness.

There were more voices around him now, and he struggled to listen. He couldn't leave Kumu to handle these goons on her own. And yes, he realized that was exactly what had gotten him into his current predicament in the first place, but the realization just underscored the fact that he needed to protect her. If these guys had such itchy trigger fingers, who knew what they would do if they got any angrier. He was pretty sure the shot he'd taken had been accidental, but it didn't mean they wouldn't shoot Kumu on purpose if she didn't give them what they wanted.

Vaguely, he felt his hands being nudged away, but he barely had time to process what might be happening before something else appeared in their place. The agonizing pressure that seemed to come out of nowhere had him choking on his sudden gasp of air.

"Shh," came Kumu's voice again. "Lie still, Thomas."

"What…?" He coughed and looked downward, trying to see what was going on.

There was a white cloth of some sort, now stained red, wadded against his side. Kumu was holding it in place, and she gave him an apologetic smile when he hissed out another breath as she pushed down harder.

"I know, I know," she murmured soothingly. "But I have to stop the bleeding."

He nodded breathlessly. "Yeah… I—I know." The pain rolled over him again, and he fought the urge to vomit. Then he blinked as a thought occurred to him. "Where…?" He looked to where the gunmen had been last he'd looked, surprised to only see one of the men—not the leader but also not the one who'd shot him—watching the two prisoners.

"They're looking for the shipment," Kumu quietly answered his unfinished question. "At least I convinced this one to get me a towel from the cabinet over there."

So that explained the first aid.

Kumu's hands shifted against his side, drawing another muted yell from Magnum. His eyes squeezed shut of their own accord, and his breaths came in quick, short bursts that tore at his chest. The gasping caused the pulsing of his injury to grow to the point where he couldn't feel anything else. He couldn't think of anything else. All he knew was all-consuming pain… But there was something he knew he needed to say, to do… Something was tugging at the back of his mind, demanding attention…

He tried to slow his breathing and focus his thoughts, employing every tactic he remembered to clear his mind and stay on mission. He'd been through worse; he could handle this.

Breathe in… Breathe out… Breathe in…

He winced and tried to ignore the rising panic. Whatever had happened was bad; he could feel it. He knew he needed help—and soon—if he was going to pull through, but that was going to be a problem if these guys didn't let them go.

The thing was, he hadn't even expected trouble when he'd shown up at the cultural center. Kumu had sent a message to The Ohana Thread with a request for someone to help her move some boxes to storage. And, since he'd been close by and just finishing up something for a case, Magnum had volunteered.

When he'd gotten out of the Ferrari, he'd immediately sensed something was… off. He didn't know why the van parked by the curb made him so uneasy—after all, Kumu hadn't _said _she was alone, not specifically—but something about it didn't sit right, and he'd long since learned to listen to his gut. So he'd grabbed his pistol, tucked it under his shirt, and gone inside to find three gunmen threatening—

The gun!

Magnum's eyes shot open with the sudden realization. He hadn't drawn it when he'd walked in to find himself severely outgunned, which meant it was still in his waistband. Which meant, with two of the three men out of the room, they might have a way out after all.

He took as deep a breath as he could and reached for his weapon—or, at least, he tried to. He'd barely moved before he found himself struggling to breathe through the rush of nausea that had him again teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

"Shh," Kumu chided, her voice still hushed as if she didn't want to risk upsetting their guard. "You're just making things worse, Thomas. You have to stay still." Her voice was soft and comforting, and he wanted nothing more than to listen to it as he sank back into the darkness as she continued. "We're going to get you help, okay? Just hold on a little longer."

But Magnum shook his head, barely noticing he only managed one small toss rather than the emphatic gesture he'd intended. "I… gun…" he whispered.

"What?" Kumu leaned in. "I can't hear you."

"Gun… in my… waist…" He had to pause for a moment, panting at the exertion. It was hot and cold all at once, and he shuddered, wincing at the way even that involuntary motion hurt. He licked his lips and continued just as quietly. "You… you gotta…"

Kumu put a hand on his arm as her eyes darted over to the goon a few yards away. Then she looked back to Magnum. "Can you walk?"

He gritted his teeth. "If I have to." It wasn't the truth, at least, not the whole truth. He would certainly try, although he knew he wouldn't make it very far. But, at the least, he was sure he could manage a few steps, which would hopefully be enough to hold off the robbers so Kumu could get to safety.

The raised eyebrow she gave him said she didn't buy his fib.

"Just… hand me the… gun," he told her, answering her first question. "And… and go when… I say so."

Her eyebrow went up even farther. "Not a chance!"

"Kumu…" He didn't have the energy to argue, and they didn't have the time. Who knew when the other two men would show back up? And then they'd be right back to being outgunned.

She hesitated for just a moment, then the pressure on his side lifted as she reached for his right hand. Giving him a small, apologetic smile as he groaned at the way the shifting aggravated his side and sent his head spinning, she put his hand over the wet towel and then moved to do the same with his left hand.

"Here," she whispered, pushing down on his hands and wincing sympathetically at the muffled cry that escaped him. "Just keep pressure on it."

Focused as he was on breathing steadily and shallowly through his nose, he couldn't reply and barely managed to nod in response. Then he felt Kumu very slowly moving his shirt up. He knew she was doing her best not to cause him more pain, and he blinked as he realized he hadn't thought through the consequences of asking her to retrieve the gun from _under _his shirt.

He was grateful he'd somehow managed to get shot on the opposite side of where his weapon was concealed, but he still knew it was going to _hurt_—and it did.

Magnum clenched his teeth and felt his fingers flexing in reaction to the way the fire in his side suddenly blossomed with sickening intensity. He felt a tug as Kumu pulled the gun free, the grip of the weapon catching on the hem of his shirt for what he knew was just a brief second but seemed to last for way too long.

"Sorry," Kumu whispered. She looked over at the gunman, then back at Magnum.

Magnum hoped her calm demeanor was a good sign since he couldn't find the energy to move his head. That was frustrating him as much as anything else. He couldn't get a read on the situation if he couldn't even see his opponent.

He took a deep breath and started to shift his hands, intending to reach out for Kumu to hand him the gun. But she ignored him and started to stand, and Magnum blinked in surprise. No, what was she doing? She couldn't…

"Kumu!" he hissed.

"Shh," she told him again, pausing to put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll be out of here soon."

"No, but… Ku—" He tried to smother the cough that tugged at his throat, knowing he couldn't give their guard a reason to look over at them now. He had to convince her to let him handle this, but she didn't seem inclined to listen to him. "Kumu!"

But she was now out of his view, and, when he tried to turn his head to keep her in sight, the whole room spun around him. He was forced to close his eyes and try to breathe through the dizziness, fighting the way the bile rose in the back of his throat and the flash of heat that made him feel like he was suddenly back in the desert.

He refused to give in. He _couldn't _give in. Not when Kumu needed his help. He swallowed hard and tried to focus on the voices off to his side.

"And don't try anything funny. I _will _shoot you."

Magnum blinked. Kumu sounded angry, angrier than he'd ever heard her. Something really bad must be going on… He needed to get up, to see what was happening; she must need help. Who was she threatening to shoot anyway?

His attempt to sit up was thwarted by a flash of pain when he shifted his weight, and he was back to panting shallowly and trying to stay conscious. Something told him this was _very _bad, and he suddenly wondered how he was still conscious.

With that thought came the realization that the room _was _a lot hazier than it had been even a minute earlier. Which was definitely not good.

The sudden movement at his side had him blinking hard to try to clear away the haze, and he frowned as his gaze focused on the two figures above him. When one leaned down, Magnum realized it was the gunman who had been guarding them, and his sudden gasp had the pain in his side flaring again. He instinctively tried to push back but didn't get very far, and his attempt to move away only served to make his head spin faster.

"It's all right, Thomas," Kumu's voice came from behind the man leaning over him, and Magnum swallowed another deep breath. "He's going to help get you to the car."

"But…" Magnum trailed off as another cough sent prickles of light across his sight. Something wasn't adding up, but it was taking all of his concentration just to stay awake. He couldn't seem to put the pieces together to figure out what was going on.

The man next to Magnum seemed to hesitate for a brief moment, but the pause was immediately broken by a sharp exclamation from Kumu.

"Hey!" she snapped. "I wasn't kidding. I have a gun, and I'm not afraid to use it." Her firm tone left little room for argument.

When the man put his hands under Magnum's shoulders, Magnum braced himself for what he knew was coming. He'd unfortunately been through similar situations, and he knew getting to his feet—even with help—was going to be agonizing. But he also knew they had no choice, so he just clenched his teeth and pressed his hands more firmly against his side.

Both men grunted as the former guard helped Magnum to his feet, the goon from the injured man's limp weight and Magnum from the fresh pain coursing through him. The quick motion of being helped upright was enough to send his head spinning all over again, not to mention the way his side was reminding him of just what it had been through. Even with the way his clothes were already soaked from the blood he'd lost, he was sure he felt the wound bleeding even faster now, and his head felt even lighter. They needed to get to the car and fast—as it was, he wasn't certain he could make it out, even with the support of the man who was literally holding him up.

"Move," Kumu ordered, her voice harsh and serious. Then, in a softer tone, she added, "Just hang in there, Thomas. We've got you."

Magnum wanted to object that the guy who'd recently been pointing a _gun _at them was half of the "we" she'd just used, but he couldn't find the energy to say anything. He just swallowed for the umpteenth time that night and managed to give a tiny nod.

It felt like an eternity before they managed to make it to the door. Even though Magnum knew it wasn't very far of a walk, it still seemed to be an endless repetition of putting one foot in front of the other. The other man was bearing all of his weight, and it was a struggle just to keep his eyes open.

Magnum blinked blearily at the shape of the exit doors looming in front of them and felt the man holding onto him shift his weight. In the next moment, he heard the sound of a crash bar being pushed in, and then they were outside in the night air.

Thinking back, Magnum would realize the entire short walk was one big blur in his memory, but he didn't have the mental capacity to wonder about it at the moment. As it was, he was again starting to wobble on his feet, and any concern for the gaps in his memory fled as he focused on staying upright and awake.

They moved across the parking lot, steps slow and unsteady. Magnum tripped more than once as his feet seemed to tangle around themselves, causing the other man to adjust quickly to make up for the change in momentum. Every quick correction caused even more pain as any movement and the other man's shifting grip continued to exacerbate the gunshot wound. It was enough to test his resolve, and, more than once in the minute it took to get to Kumu's vehicle by the curb, Magnum nearly gave in to the darkness tugging at his consciousness.

He heard the sound of a car door opening, then the world tilted too fast for him to keep up. When it stopped moving, he found himself lying on his back in the rear seat.

Someone leaned over him and snapped a seatbelt into place, and Magnum groaned as the belt rubbed against his side. Of course, he knew it was necessary; he'd rather the discomfort now than what would happen if Kumu suddenly had to slam on her brakes. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"Now step over here," Kumu's command drifted into the car, and the figure that had been visible above Magnum stepped back and out of his line of sight.

There were more voices from outside, but Magnum was having trouble focusing on them—on much of anything, actually. He tried to concentrate on taking as deep a breath as he could, holding it for a second, then letting it out slowly. Each exhale came out more raggedly than he would have liked, but he couldn't correct it, no matter how hard he tried.

It felt like everything was closing in on him. Even lying down, he could feel the world swimming around him, slowly fading away…

"Just hold on, Thomas," he heard Kumu's voice from somewhere nearby as a car engine—their car engine?—started up. "Just a little longer. You can do it."

Could he though? As he felt his tenuous grip on reality fading away, he wondered if she was overestimating him just a little…

* * *

"And then she tied him to the light pole and took off with you to the hospital!" Rick finished, sitting back in his chair and grinning at his friend who was lying in the bed a few feet away.

It was the next afternoon, and Magnum was finally up to having visitors. He'd been rushed into surgery mere minutes after Kumu had raced up to the hospital, brakes squealing. During the car ride, he'd been fading in and out, and the last thing he remembered before waking up in a dim hospital room was hands transferring him from the back of the car onto a gurney.

The others had been there waiting for Magnum when he'd gotten out of surgery in the wee hours of the morning, but he'd slept for most of the morning. Only now, in the late afternoon, was he finally able to keep his eyes open long enough to have anything much of a conversation, and the others were now filling him in on the details he'd missed.

Kumu and Higgins had since stepped out to grab coffee for everyone—well, everyone but Magnum, who was most definitely not allowed to have caffeine—leaving Rick and T.C. to entertain their friend. Once Magnum had admitted he didn't remember much from the night before, the other two men had been quick to jump into story-telling mode.

T.C. nodded, pride clear on his features. "The police arrested all three of the crooks at the cultural center; the other two were still digging around inside and didn't even know what had happened until the cops showed up." He sniffed and shook his head.

"That's our Kumu," Rick said proudly.

"Now wait a minute!" Magnum made a face. "You make it sound like I did nothing. I got _shot _you know."

Rick looked at T.C., then turned back to Magnum with a shrug. "Yeah, sure, but it's not like this is the first time."

"Hey!" Magnum protested.

Smirking at his friend's obvious annoyance, T.C. nodded. _"Kumu, _on the other hand, is a hero," he added.

Magnum coughed, trying to put as much offense into the sound as possible. "It was _my_ gun," he argued weakly.

"That you didn't even have out," Rick remarked, shaking his head. "You know, it's no wonder you got yourself shot if you went running in there without your gun drawn."

"There were three of them!" Magnum argued. "If I went in there waving a gun, I was going to get us _both _shot."

T.C. was still grinning. "Right, because your way worked out so well."

Frowning, Magnum lay back against the pillows and sighed, although more shallowly than he would have otherwise. Even that motion, though, caused him to wince slightly, but he shook it off and raised an eyebrow at his friends. "Nice to see how much you both care about me."

The others laughed, then Rick leaned over and gently clapped Magnum on his shoulder. "Nah, you did good, T.M. We're all glad you were there to take care of Kumu."

Magnum nodded in appreciation but then smirked at Rick's comment. "You guys didn't see her in action; I'm pretty sure she can take care of herself."

* * *

_Fin._

_A/N II: __This started with the vague idea of Magnum helping Kumu at the cultural center and then getting himself in trouble when the place gets robbed. But then I thought about how Kumu's always willing to leap into danger to protect one of the others when needed (and how her attempts keep getting interrupted on the show, first with the Russians and then with the mercenaries), and I realized I had the perfect way to get the two of them out of trouble. :)_


End file.
